Tic-Toc Game
by SugarBubbleGum
Summary: Being transported to the past without warning doesn't leave you time to pack all your makeup or even a phone charger. As it turns out, maybe being a newsie is overrated. And surprise, surprise, no phone signal in 1899. Oh, and what is this about a certain Tic-Toc Game that seems to be behind it all?
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: **Please read before proceeding 3

Hello everyone! So I took this story down about five years ago in 2010 because I decided that I didn't like it anymore, and I couldn't go anywhere with it. And then about two years ago in February 2013 I brought this story back. Following that, I abandoned it for a long while to work on other stories. But now it's back for good hopefully!

I have updated this story from last year because I've found mistakes in it, so I apologize if it is not like you remembered. Also, keep in mind that I first wrote this fic around 2010, so some of the dialogue and pop cultural references may be a bit dated. I'll try to fix that.

Let me know in the reviews if you are a previous reader of this story, and if you like the changes made. Also if you are a new reader please let me know if you like it, and what you would like to see in the future.

BTW, though I deleted the original Tic-Toc Game from five years ago, the previous updated version from two years ago is still on the website. I will be updating this version of the Tic-Toc Game as a new story. I hope you like this one as I have tried to clean it up a bit. The humor is still the same as is the main plot.

HOWEVER, I have taken into account from earlier reviews and private messages that there are too many girl protagonists in this story. Granted, the main protagonist was Kylie, or 'Cat' as the newsies call her. But having six other girl mains is just too much to keep track of both for me and for the readers, and I could not do each of their characters justice. Therefore, I have gotten rid of the characters of Sophie (who loved Skittery) and Zoe (who loved David). I'm sorry if you felt attached to them, but these two were the least developed characters and didn't really have any subplots of their own and were, for lack of better words, filler characters. Also I have changed the names of most of the characters, so I'm sorry if that's confusing!

Originally, I was going to make this one of those Mary-Sue parodies, but then I changed my mind halfway through. So if it seems a bit mocking at first, I apologize. I will be changing a lot of things in this fic from the original, so heads up.

Lastly, if you have any objections to things that I've added or taken away from the original, leave a review! I'd appreciate the criticism and will try to fix it. Thanks so much for being so patient :D

Please enjoy this updated version of The Tic-Toc Game.

Disclaimer: Only own my OC's and original ideas


	2. Chapter 1

"Who is it that can't eat peanut butter?" Kylie's mother, Maureen Corcoran, asked for like the hundredth time that night. It was Friday evening, the third day of summer break, and Mrs. Corcoran sat at the kitchen counter, glasses perched on her nose, calmly preparing what appeared to be grilled cheese.

Kylie felt the Vanilla Coke she was drinking fizz up her nose.

"I ordered pizza, the kind you always like me to get, but I thought as a cute snack I could make grilled cheese and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, like in kindergarten," Mrs. Corcoran continued excitedly.

Kylie raised her eyebrows in slight disappointment at her mother's failed attempt at creating a menu. She pulled herself up on top of the granite countertop and swung her legs off the side. Her mother's kitchen was something out of a Home and Gardens magazine. All white walls and kitchen furniture, accented with shots of powder blue. A few of her mother's own paintings decorated almost every empty wall space as if to say "I'm so talented. See how talented I am?"

"First of all, Brid doesn't even like peanut butter," Kylie mumbled, as if her mother should know this by now. "And second, this isn't kindergarten. We're in tenth grade,"

Mrs. Corcoran nodded. "Okay, okay, I think I have some popcorn in the pantry down in the basement for you all. And soda is in the downstairs fridge. Water bottles are in the garage. And please, please, please limit Rosie to only two sodas. Remember what happened last time?"

Kylie laughed at the memory of Rosie drinking five Mountain Dews and getting really hyper. That night had been a blur.

Her mother crossed her arms. "Kylie, I'm serious. I love Rosie to death, but keep her from bouncing off the walls, please."

Kylie stopped laughing and nodded.

"And get off my tabletop, Kyles," her mother said, smacking her arm playfully. "You know that part of the counter can break. It's not supported by anything,"

Kylie promptly hopped off and leaned her back against the counter instead, more than anything wanting this conversation to be over.

Her mom pointed to a stack of old board games with a fine layer of dust atop each case. "I found these in the attic. Your father was going to give them away, but I convinced him to let me keep them. I used to play these games when I was little. You girls might want to play."

Kylie shot her mom an are-you-kidding-me look.

Mrs. Corcoran frowned. "What? You guys would have fun."

"God, Mom, no," Her daughter replied.

Her mom shrugged. "Fine, you can go now. I just wanted your opinion."

Kylie hugged her mom. "I love you."

Mrs. Corcoran smiled. "I know. Now go finish setting up downstairs. Your friends are gonna be here at 7:30, 'kay? You've got ten minutes, girly," her mom said, laughing.

Kylie dashed out of the kitchen and swung open the small white door leading to the newly finished basement. The door of the basement was located in the tiny hallway off the white and blue accented kitchen, and it was so camouflaged, you would miss it if you didn't know where to look.

She bounded down the white-painted, wooden steps and walked over to the fireplace mantel, which was decorated with pictures of her and her family, to light the vanilla scented candles that were already laid out. Her mother had transformed one side of the basement into an art studio where she offered lessons to kids and adults.

The studio area was crowded with metal bins full of colored pencils (all organized by color shade of course), long white tables to sit at, easels and sinks, and even a tiny room off to the side with bookshelves full of manilla folders of magazine photos should any of her mother's art students want to select a picture to draw.

Much to her mother's disappointment, Kylie couldn't draw anything past a stick figure.

Kylie was allowed to hang out on the other side of the basement which resembled a less formal version of a sitting room.

She grabbed her lavender-scented free breeze and sprayed it around the room, as the smell of hairspray for drying oil paints often wafted through the entire basement. She arranged seven sleeping bags in between the chocolate lazy-boy duvet couch, and the plasma flat screen TV. Kylie then sprayed lavender sheet spray inside the sleeping bags, too. She set a small nail polish bottle on each sleeping bag.

Next came the downstairs bathroom. She lit scented candles on the small, white sink counter, and added a fresh roll of toilet paper on the holder. Kylie made sure the soap container was full, and brought in fresh hand towels.

She grimaced at the laminated sign next to the toilet her mother had made that kindly reminded her female art students not to flush feminine products down the toilet. All her friends joked about it whenever they came over, but her mother refused to take it down.

The soft, brown rug carpeting the the sitting room half of the basement floor had just been vacuumed, and smelled like oranges.

Kylie's basement was warm and cozy, and had a door in the art studio part that led to the smallest of corridors. Her mother had painted it sky blue and also painted a beautiful doe nibbling on grass and flowers. The tiny corridor was all cement walls, and blue cement stairs outside led up from the corridor and into their back porch, overlooking the Corcoran's back garden.

The basement smelled of lavender, burnt popcorn, and of course art supplies. Outside, lightning bugs had already begun to light up the purplish sky.

"Quiet, Faye!" Kylie snapped, even though her puppy was only playing with her bone squeaky toy.

She pressed Play on the CD player her mother used for her mood music downstairs and a Celtic Woman's song came blasting through her speakers. Kylie immediately turned the speakers down and popped the CD out of the player. She wished her mother would buy an iHome like regular houses had.

Kylie threw on a ratty pair of puma shorts, and a faded, black top made of thin material she had handed down from an older cousin. Her not-washed-since-yesterday hair was thrown in a high ponytail, as she hoped to hide some of the dirtiness.

Suddenly, the front door opened, and the familiar greetings exchanged between Kylie's friends and her parents were heard. The girls were directed downstairs, where they all started talking at once.

"Kylie-cub!" Rosella Jones yelled, jumping down two steps at a time. She practically tackled Kylie in one jump.

"Rosie, you need to calm the hell down," Kylie smiled, gently shoving Rosie off of her.

Rosie grinned. "Haha, make me, loser," Her once white 'I Heart NY' shirt was now a faded grey color from being washed and worn too many times, and her dark hair was piled in a low ponytail, her wispy strands of hair pushed back with a thin, elastic headband, trying to hide her split ends.

Kylie had met Rosie her sixth grade year when they both went to the same middle school. Rosie had then left to go to a different school in seventh grade because her family had moved out of the district. At the time, her parents were going through a pretty rough divorce. Her dad, whom Rosie said was from a country in Western Asia, had packed up and moved to California.

After that, her mom had moved them to a tiny ranch house near the high school her and Kylie attended. Being an only child, Rosie loved spending time at Kylie's house because she had so many

siblings running around. She did okay in school and academics, but her real passion was on the soccer field and in front of the goal.

Priscilla DeSantis hugged Kylie next. "Hey, you're here," Kylie squealed.

Cilla had been in Italy for two weeks visiting her mother's family and hadn't exactly made the effort to call or text any of her friends while she was away. Her parents were divorced as well, except unlike Rosie, Cilla never knew her father. She knew he lived in Spain somewhere, but she never made the effort to contact him. She was someone who was used to moving.

In fact, Cilla had been all across America, even living in Alaska for a year. She had only recently moved into a smaller house in a torn-up neighborhood where her mother, grandmother, and brothers were renting. Cilla had always dreamed of going to Harvard to become a lawyer, but that's all it was - a dream. Instead, she ended up answering a modeling and acting call and got herself an agent - which was such a joke to her friends but they were all too polite to say anything.

"I know, I have so many things to tell you guys about my weird family," Cilla laughed. "I had to sleep in the same bed as my nona for the first week I was there because my aunt forgot we were coming and didn't make up the guest bedroom." Cilla pulled on her own brown, coarse hair which hung flat down her back, her usual hairstyle. In fact, Kylie was pretty sure she had never seen Cilla wear her hair any other way.

Rowan Rigby ran down the stairs and waved to Kylie, her dirty blonde hair in a long French braid down her back. "I brought candy," She smiled. Rosie tackled her in a hug.

Rowan was certainly the sweetest and fairest of them all, with her shy smile, good-girl innocence, and the misfortune of never being able to tan in the summertime.

Her parents were old hippies, and had ironically named her older sister after the lonely character of Eleanor Rigby in the Beatles song of the same name. She was also the new girl, having just moved to to town their freshman year from Nebraska, and before then, from Canada - all for her father's job. She was currently renting a house with her family of six until they could move into a real one, living within walking distance of Kylie's house. They had met in science class their freshman year and bonded over how much they hated their awkward, annoying physics teacher.

"And I learned how to play poker the other day, and I think I can finally whip Cilla's butt," Rowan called.

Cilla pretended to be taken aback as she mockingly tossed her hair over her shoulder in an over-the-top fashion. "Shut the hell up, you don't know my poker strategies."

Rowan and Cilla then began shuffling a deck of cards from her bag.

"Wait, really?" Rosie rolled her eyes playfully. "You're gonna play this now?"

Brid Reilly came down the stairs, her older brother's laptop in her hands. She wore her usual track pants and athletic jacket, her cinnamon colored hair in a messy ponytail.

"Does Logan know you stole that?" Rowan asked, pointing to the laptop in Brid's hand.

Brid smiled evilly. "Honey, I borrowed it without permission - sue me,"

"Hey, Bridget," Kylie called out, hugging her tightly.

The girls chattered happily as the claimed their spots on the couch while Kylie threw a bag of popcorn in the microwave. She set the timer for one minute.

"Um, you do know there's a button that says POPCORN, right?" Rosie said, raising an eyebrow over at Kylie.

Kylie sighed. "Yeah, but it never pops all the kernels, so I leave it in for a minute and then ten seconds,"

Rosie scrunched up her eyebrows. "Why are we friends?"

"Guys, we haven't done anything together since summer," Brid said. "This is going to be so fun."

Cilla nodded in agreement, taking a sip from the Starbucks she'd brought with her. "Cause of freaking finals we haven't had time to do shit," she said aggravatedly, propping up her Ugg-clad feet on the coffee table in front of the couch. "I swear to God I failed my chemistry exam. And I ended the semester with a D in art class. How the hell do you fail that class?"

Kylie looked over at her sympathetically. "Did Kevin text you at all this whole week?" She asked, able to see through to the real reason for Cilla's frustration.

Cilla rolled her eyes at the mention of her 'boyfriend.' He turned out to be a real jerk these past couple of weeks and Cilla was already an over-sensitive person no matter how much she denied it, and lately she had become really hurt by his lack of response to her calls and texts. Then again, she did tend to be clingy at times. "He's just being an asshole right now. God, I need something to take my mind off of him," she turned to Rowan who was getting the popcorn out of the microwave. "While we're on the subject-"

"Who says 'while we're on the subject'?" Rosie cracked up.

Cilla ignored her but smiled a little. "How's Andrew?" She asked Rowan.

Rowan tried to pretend like she didn't know what Cilla was talking about but her flushed cheeks of embarrassment and shy smile gave her away. "C'mon, Ro. We know you like him,"

"Um, no I don't," Rowan replied, though her smile widened as her cheeks grew rosier. "We're just friends,"

"With benefits," Rosie finished for her, which was entirely false knowing Rowan. In fact, Rowan's parents wouldn't even let her date until she was seventeen, a full year away. This was hilariously ironic considering her parents history with free love back in their teenage years.

Rowan didn't say anything but lowered her gaze to her popcorn bowl out of slight embarrassment.

"At least you can get guys to notice you," Brid said sadly. "I've never had a boyfriend."

Rosie smirked. "You went to homecoming with Donavon this year,"

Brid shot her a look. "He never did and never will count. I went with him out of pity," she said, wrapping a fuzzy blanket around her shoulders. "I mean, what was I supposed to do? He made a sign out of macaroni and glitter, okay? That was probably the best I was going to get."

Cilla threw her empty coffee cup to the trashcan near the stairs. It missed and toppled onto the floor.

"You're getting that," Kylie said.

"No I'm not," Cilla shrugged.

Rosie groaned. "I don't wanna talk about boyfriends anymore. I need to relax with my waffles," she said, smiling at the group.

"Your waffles?" Eleanor giggled.

"The fuck?" Cilla furrowed her eyebrows.

"Yeah, that's you guys," Rosie nodded.

Kylie looked amused. "Why are we your waffles?"

Rosie shrugged. "Darling, why wouldn't you be?"

Brid nodded happily. "I do like waffles,"

Kylie shook her head and walked over to the bookshelf where her family kept their DVDs. "What do you guys wanna watch?"

Maggie, Kylie's older sister, walked down the stairs, carrying three boxes of pizza in her hands. "Mom said to bring this down to you guys,"

"NEWSIES!" Kylie's friends shouted at the same time.

Maggie rolled her eyes at her sister and her friends. "You guys are so lame. Kylie, you already watched Newsies last week. Remember the road trip to Grandma's house last weekend? You made me watch it in the back seat with you on loop."

Cilla jumped up and hugged Maggie. "I love you, Maggie,"

Maggie was like the honorary sister to Kylie's friends. She pried Cilla off of her.

"So? Don't insult Newsies, okay? You don't know Newsies," Rosie said back to Maggie.

"Newsies. Are. Life." Rowan furthered.

"But-" Rowan tried to retaliate, but it was too late. Kylie had already put the DVD in and hit Play. Rowan shrugged and bounded up the stairs. "Later, Nerdsies," she called behind her.

Just then, the garage door screeched as it opened, meaning someone was home. Kylie's older brother opened the door from the garage, his new girlfriend behind him holding Chinese takeout in her arms.

"'Sup, Jamie," Kylie called from the couch, not bothering to turn around.

Jamie muttered something of a hello as he texted someone as his phone.

"Watcha guys watching?" His girlfriend's voice was slightly raspy. She looked at the movie case that sat by the TV. "Newsies? No way, this movie is the shit," she said, pushing her dyed blonde hair out of her face.

"Super gay," Jamie muttered and started heading up the stairs. His girlfriend smiled sweetly at the group before following him up to the kitchen.

Kylie closed the door to upstairs so they wouldn't have any more distractions. She switched off the lights and settled back in with her friends.

The disney logo danced across the screen. Rosie squirmed excitedly. "I miss you, 90s,"

Cilla glared at her. "You are not allowed to say that, you were born in '97."

When the movie showed the boys in the Lodging House, they heard Rowan squeal.

"Mush is my spirit animal," Rosie mumbled in awe when the ab god himself came on the screen.

"That doesn't even make any sense," Rowan laughed, eyebrows furrowed in amused confusion.

Rosie shook her head, "Fight me,"

"I used to like Mush," Kylie agreed. "But I think I like a different one now."

"Ok, so then you've ruled out hot, toned, nice, and cuddly. What other newsies are you left with?" Rosie challenged with a mouthful of popcorn.

Cilla laughed and propped her feet up on Brid's lap. "Y'all are stupid. Race is obviously the best."

"Uh no. Blink is bae," Rowan argued.

"Blink has special needs," Cilla retorted. Rowan's eyes widened and Cilla shrunk back. Suddenly there was flash of blonde hair and purple polished nails as Rowan practically pounced on Cilla.

"Get off me, you little whack-a-mole," Cilla teased while trying to push Rowan off of her.

"Guys, Spot's just the best, okay? Deal with it," Kylie commented.

"Please, Spot's two years old. Besides, Mush is adorkable. Spot's just...scary." Rosie argued.

"NO, JACK! RUN!" Brid shouted, as Jack and David and Les made a run for it from Snyder. "Jack's so fast when he runs, must be hard for David."

"That's what she said," Cilla muttered, taking a drink from her cherry cola.

Rosie laughed slightly.

Everyone groaned when David introduced Jack to Sarah in the next scene.

"Wait a sec, guys," Kylie said. "Sarah's not that bad,"

Her friends turned and glared at her. "Who are you?" Cilla said in disgust.

"Where does David's dad even work?" Rosie asked, piling Rowan's hair into a messy bun.

"At the factory…" Rowan said as if it were obvious.

Brid shook her head. "Nah, Mayor Jacobs slays zombies for a living," she confirmed.

"Did they even have zombies in 1899?" Rowan asked.

Brid shrugged. "The history books are fuzzy on that,"

"Why is Spot so intimidating?" Rowan asked, painting her nails.

"Because he's gorgeous and has a cane." Kylie answered. "And I have a thing for guys with ocean blue eyes."

"And dog names." Brid stated, grabbing a handful of popcorn.

"You apparently have a thing for guys with preoccupations to go to New Mexico." Kylie smiled back.

"Well, Spot's a freaking Mary-Sue," Brid laughed. "I'm not even going to call him a Gary-Stu,"

Cilla threw a piece of popcorn in the air and caught it in her mouth on the third try. "Spot isn't part of the Racetrack and Jack friendship club," she and Brid high-fived.

As the movie ended and the credits rolled, the girls stretched and tossed their paper plates in the trash.

"I am done eating. Forever," Cilla said putting her pizza down. "I would love to go into the movie."

"Right?" Rowan added. "I'd out-Mary-Sue all of you,"

"Hey guys, we should do something," Brid suggested.

"Yeah, sure. Whatcha got planned for tonight, Ky?," Rosie asked.

Kylie thought for a moment. "I didn't plan farther than Newsies, but there are these, well, never mind,"

Rosie looked puzzled. "Spit it out, Ky."

Kylie thought for a second. "Well, my mom found these sketchy games upstairs, and-"

The others were already up the stairs in an instant. Kylie shrugged and followed them. The lights upstairs were all off, so her family must have gone out for dinner. Her brother and his girlfriend were no longer in the kitchen, so she assumed they were watching TV in the family room. The girls quietly grabbed the three board games from the kitchen and went back downstairs.

They sorted through the games her mom had left on the counter and brought them downstairs.

"Let's see," Ella said. "We've got Candy Land, Chutes and Ladders, and what the hell is this?" She asked, holding up an old, dusty game box.

The others huddled over it. It had a dark blue cover and was torn in some corners. On the box it had the words 'Tic Toc Game.' Kylie cautiously lifted the lid.

Dust flew out and the girls all coughed. "Gross, this probably hasn't been played in years," Rowan said.

A torn, dusty game board lay inside. A spinner and one little game piece was included.

"Does anyone else find it strange that there's only one pon?" Brid asked.

Cilla stared at her. "Stop it, Brid. You're just trying to scare us,"

"What?" Brid asked. "I'm just saying."

Kylie pulled out the game board and set it on the coffee table. Everyone gathered around. The pon was a small circle. The board looked more like a time line, if anything, but it was hard to tell what with all the dirt on it. There were what looked like playing cards to go with them. An intricate design was on the back of each card. The spinner was more like a clock, except with dates on them. A thin, brownish paper was at the bottom of the box.

"This must be the instructions." Cilla said.

Kylie picked it up. "I'll read it." She cleared her throat. "It says: Welcome to the 'Tic Toc Game.' We're so happy to have you.

Rosie scrunched her eyebrows. "It does not say that,"

Kylie showed her the paper, and sure enough it did.

"Go on," Rosie said. Everyone waited, breathless.

Kylie continued reading. "Just a few little words of advice. Since many have never played, don't play alone. In fact, we recommend you playing with others. You don't have to be scared, just be prepared. It's very important to pay attention to the rules of the game, especially the last two. A player must only play by their own will. There are no opponents in this game, just allies, trust me on that. Try to help each other out. Don't become attached to the game; keep your priorities in order. So do yourself a favor, and pay attention to these rules. But above all, once you have begun to play this game, there is no going back. And remember, Tic Toc and good luck. Signed, the Game Creator."

The room was totally silent. Kylie turned the paper over and found the rules. In very small script, she read:

"Instructions:

1\. Place the game board on a flat surface

2\. Place the clock spinner in the center

3\. Place the cards next to the spinner

4\. Turn is played counterclockwise among the players

5\. Player spins clock four times, and moves that many spaces

6\. During the same turn, player reads card

7\. All wait

"All wait? What the hell?" Rosie asked, scratching her neck.

"I think we should play," Cilla said, looking down at the board.

"Naw, bro. This game is... weird." Rosie protested.

"I wanna play, too..." Rowan said, brushing back a strand of hair.

"Me, too." Brid scooted closer to the game.

"But this seems kinda shady, and-" Rosie started.

"Please, what's the worst that can happen, we get a paper cut?" Brid said sarcastically. "We should play."

"Kylie?" Cilla looked to her friend. "What do you say?"

Kylie looked thoughtful, then broke into a smirk. "I say, that what you say, is what I say."

Rosie shook her head. "Okay, you officially ruined the moment,"

"Okay, Ky, your house, so you spin." Cilla said, patting Kylie on the back.

"Um, okay," Kylie hesitantly reached out her hand and spun the clock. Everyone waited breathless in the dark room. Just enough light was coming in through the window for the girls to see the game board. The room was dark. All was silent. Then the hand on the spinner landed.

"Well?" Rowan whispered.

Kylie leaned over the spinner. "It landed on the one."

Brid took the pon and moved it one space on the game board. "Okay, what now?"

"Spin again," Cilla urged. "Four times remember?"

Kylie spun again. "Eight," she read.

Eight more spaces.

She spun a third time. "Nine,"

Nine more spaces.

The fourth time she produced another nine. Nine more spaces.

"What next?" Kylie asked.

"We pick a card." Brid said, picking a card for the group. She read it, over, and over again to herself.

"Well? What does it say?" Kylie asked.

Rosie laughed. "What's the matter? Bad fortune?"

Cilla smiled. "Yeah, Confucius says to stop being such a drama queen."

The other girls laughed. Brid didn't, but instead had her eyes glued to the card.

"Brid, what's wrong?" Rosie asked, trying to read the card over her shoulder.

"Read it out loud." Rowan said.

Brid took a deep breath. "It says: The use of traveling is to regulate imagination by reality, and instead of thinking how things may have been, to see them as they were."

"What does that mean?" Kylie asked, really confused.

"Who knows, I don't speak genius." Brid said, shrugging.

"Now what?" Asked Kylie.

"Now, we apparently wait." Brid said, shrugging.

"Wait for what?" Cilla asked. "Our clothes to go out of style?"

"It doesn't say," Rosie said, glaring at the directions.

"Um, you guys." Rowan said uneasily.

"It can't just say to wait. Let me see the directions." Brid said, trying to grab them from Rosie.

"Guys?" Rowan said again.

"Just chill out!" Cilla said to Brid and Rosie.

"GUYS!" Rowan yelled. Everyone stopped arguing and turned to the usually quiet one. They all looked at her expectantly.

"Well, what is it, Ro?" Kylie asked.

Rowan was staring at the game board. Everyone followed her gaze. "You guys, we forgot to read what our game piece landed on." she said in a distant voice.

"What does it say?" Asked Cilla, curious.

Rosie and Brid leaned in towards the game piece. Brid put down the directions and moved the game piece slightly to the side.

Rosie raised her eyebrows. "Okay, now I've officially peed my pants."

Kylie stared at where the pon had landed. "It says: 1899."

The TV turned on. They all turned towards it. Kylie got up and went to turn it off.

"Peculiar," Cilla stated as they walked back to the couch.

"Since when do you say 'peculiar'?" Brid asked with a laugh.

"I don't know," Cilla shrugged. "I just felt like it fit the mood, ya know?"

"Oh, in that case, well done," Brid nodded.

"Thanks,"

"Guys, focus!" Rowan snapped.

No sooner had they all sat down when the room started to warp slightly. Objects seemed to bend and colors merged together.

"What the hell is going on?" Rosie said, her voice faltering slightly, like a radio when you're flipping through stations without signal.

"I think we're tripping hard," Kylie answered back.

"Kkkyylieee," Cilla said, her voice slurring as the room around them seemed to melt and close in. "Yourrr mom gaaave usss reeeeferrrr pizzzaaaa,"

They huddled together, eyes closed, screaming. A blinding light engulfed them in a flash, and their minds went blank. They felt like they were falling. Then, BOOM! Total darkness. Everything was absolutely still. No one made a sound.


	3. Chapter 2

Kylie's eyes fluttered open. She gasped for air loudly as if she had been strangled. A cool wind drifted across her face, and the smell of burning wood and river water wafted through the air.

Kylie slowly shifted her eyes around her from where she was lying. Where was she? Her vision was blurred slightly, and the raging headache she was feeling began to subside.

A piercing ring was shooting through her ears, and she had to squint her eyes in order to focus. From what she could tell and smell, she was outside.

How long ago was it that she had gone outside? Was it before she fell asleep, or just now, or was she still dreaming?

Kylie tried to sit up, but was quickly back down on the ground. "What's happening?" She muttered to no one in particular, more to herself than anyone. She wasn't entirely sure that she wasn't alone as a matter of fact.

"Kylie?" Cilla whined from somewhere next to her. "Is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me," Kylie answered, still staring up at the sky, heavily shadowed by two, brick buildings.

Wait. Two, brick buildings? Kylie rubbed her throbbing temples. "I feel like I've been hit by a truck," she mewed, struggling to push herself up on her elbows. They were bony and painful to rest on against the hard concrete. "Scratch that. I feel like my head's been bashed in with a sledgehammer after jumping out of a plane after being blown up in an airport after crashing a car filled with explosives doused in gasoline while being shot by a semi-automatic while going into on-coming traffic while doing meth. Twice," she finished, cracking a small smile.

Cilla came into Kylie's view as her vision adjusted slightly. She raised an eyebrow at her. "You should write that one down," Cilla replied half-heartedly. "You just described my first hour pre-calc class in one sentence. How did you do that?"

"Shit, where are we?" A voice next to Kylie moaned. Cilla and Kylie glanced to their right to see Rosie looking around frantically, eyes wild with confusion and distress. Kylie had never before seen her so nervous. In fact, Kylie began to wonder why she herself didn't feel nervous. And that's when the panic started to set in.

"I-I don't know. I just woke up," Kylie said. "Were we kidnapped?" She asked, her voice going from drowsy to fearful in a millisecond. She quickly checked her arms and legs for any signs of struggle or abuse, but finding nothing but the small rope bracelet with tiny Celtic designs on her left wrist that she had worn since she bought it a few Novembers ago.

"I see Brid and Rowan," Cilla said slowly, peeling herself off from the ground and crawling over to the where two lifeless bodies lay on the ground a foot away from them. Kylie hadn't even thought of checking to see if they were all accounted for. But when she noticed both Brid and Rowan were being woken up by Cilla, she felt a bit more comfortable to know they were all there with her.

Rowan sat up wide-eyed. She brushed her blonde strands of hair out of her face and looked around her. The others watched her warily. "Why are we outside? Kylie, did we leave your house last night? I can't remember anything. Did I fall asleep?"

Brid just hugged her legs to her chest and listened as the others tried to review their circumstances.

"Kylie, I don't even know where we are," Cilla said in a grave tone that kind of scared the others. She stood up on wobbly legs and rested against the brick building on the side of the ally. "I don't think we're in your neighborhood anymore. This seems more like a city. I think we should go get help,"

"Yeah," Rosie nodded, joining Cilla. "I'll go with you,"

"No," Kylie said, standing up as well. "We don't split up. We all stay together," she breathed, looking at Brid and Rowan who were still sitting. "Come on, we'll sort this out. I'm sure my brother is just pulling a prank on us,"

"Yeah, that makes what kind of sense?" Rowan scoffed.

"Come on, please get up," Kylie said, tugging on Rowan's arm. Rowan allowed Kylie to pull her up, and Brid stood quietly afterwards.

Moving cautiously to the opening of the alleyway, the girls peeped around the corner to the bustling world they'd just stumbled into. To the far side of the dirt and cobblestone road, large wooden and metal wagons trollied along, piled high with crates and bundles of furniture and other goods. Men rode along the back of the wagons, seemingly hitching a ride unnoticed.

Golden-brown, rusted rouge, and even pine green buildings draped with clotheslines strung with shredded laundry lined both sides of the streets. Produce stands crowded the other side of the street, their vendors all barking loudly to the hustle and bustle in the streets.

Oh, and everyone was dressed as if they were auditioning for Downton Abbey.

"I'm dreaming," Kylie heard herself whisper. She clutched the side of the brick wall for support.

Cilla steadied a hand on hers. "Then I must be having the same dream," she mumbled.

A flock of pigeons darted past them, making nearly all of them jump. The strong stench of fish and river water made their stomachs churn. The girls inhaled, and then exhaled rather quickly.

Rosie coughed and then pulled her t-shirt v-neck so that is covered her nose. "At least we have air. It's not good air, but it's air."

"This is impossible," Kylie squeaked in awe, looking around in wonder. "At least I read it was impossible. I was so sure…"

"What's impossible?" Rowan echoed, her voice faltering.

Kylie turned towards the group of bewildered faces. "I...I think," she paused and turned over her hunch in her mind. "I'm almost positive we accidentally time-traveled,"

The girls stared at her in silence. "Okay, there's weird and then there's...Matrix. You're in Matrix waters right now," Cilla remarked, trying to chuckle, but it sounded forced.

Rosie looked as though she had remembered something and quickly fished the pockets of her sweatpants for something. She resurrected her Andriod cell phone. "I'm calling for help,"

"And say what?" Kylie demanded. "That we're chilling in the 19th century, not to worry but send a cab to pick us up?"

"Okay, we don't know that," Rosie said, typing frantically into her phone. "Damn it, no signal," she grumbled. She held her phone up in the air and began to wave it around.

"What are you doing?" Cilla asked.

Rosie glared at her. "Maybe I can get a pocket of signal somewhere,"

"A pocket of signal?" Kylie laughed in disbelief. "You're not going to get signal. We went back in time. There are no cell phones, ergo no signal."

"Extra! Extra!" a voice called. "Ellis Island in flames! Big conflagration!" The girls looked outside the alley all at once, jaws dropped, eyes wide.

"No," they all whispered under their breaths. Sure enough, the tall seventeen-year-old with the red bandana and cheeky smile was handing a paper to a woman nearby.

Rosie grabbed Kylie's arm and squeezed excitedly. "You know what, Kylie?" She said, trying to keep her voice from squealing. "We better have time traveled."


	4. Chapter 3

**Hey, loves! I've been so busy lately, but thanks to the joyous time that is summer, I'm free to write and update as often as I wish. Here's the next chapter. Let me just say, writing time travel fics is not easy. Being original and creative actually takes brain power. This took forever to write. I couldn't figure out how I wanted the girls to meet the boys (still haven't really figured that one out, open to suggestions though :) ), and I wasn't sure who I wanted them to kind of be their 'mentor' if you will throughout 1899. Seriously though, I need some ideas for the next chapter, so either pm me or leave your ideas in a review. I read all messages and reviews, and I will listen to your thoughts and opinions. Anyway, enjoy the chapter and carry the banner!**

* * *

**Chapter III**

As the busy scene on the streets played out before them, Kylie felt herself stagger against the cobblestone streets as if wading through Jell-O. "W-what do we do?" She inquired to the girls over her shoulder. Her voice came out softer than she intended, and she wondered whether it was fear or excitement that caused her lack of speech.

"I don't know," Rowan mumbled, purposely staying behind the group in an attempt to hide should anything jump out at them. "This is all so crazy. I just want to go home." She sounded like she might start crying. Kylie wasn't sure she'd ever seen Rowan cry before, and now was not the time for a first.

"Hey, can someone talk to me for a second? I mean, we actually just saw Jack Kelly," Cilla beamed. It was obvious in her voice that she was trying to contain her squeal that was sure to find its way out of her mouth in a few seconds anyway. "You guys saw him, too, right? Oh my God, please say 'right.' If I'm already hallucinating, that means we've been drugged, and that would just be a complete let down."

"Dammit, Priscilla, get your shit together," Rosie snapped, grabbing Cilla's thin shoulders and shaking her. "We don't have time for this. Even if it was Jack, how the hell does that help anything? We're still stuck in this...world...dimension...whatever this is."

Brid, who had been quiet this whole time, placed her hands on her head and closed her eyes. "Shut up, just shut up. Please. My head hurts," she groaned. "Can someone just figure out where we are?"

"Really?" Cilla replied, shaking her head in disbelief. "We're in 1899. Probably Manhattan, New York. We time-traveled, like what Kylie said."

Brid looked to Kylie for her to disprove this, and Cilla looked to her for support. Kylie opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. She said nothing. Kylie wasn't exactly sure herself.

"Fine. Say we time traveled," Rosie snapped as she rolled her eyes.

"We _did_ time travel."

"Shut up, Cilla," Rosie moaned, raising a hand. "How would we have even gotten here?"

"It was the game, _duh_," Cilla answered, as if it was obvious. "Brid, you read the card? Remember? After we spun that spinner thingy? It said some bullshit about time travel. Remember that?" She turned to Brid, raising her eyebrows and raising her voice.

Brid kept her arms folded across her chest as she stared at Cilla, unconvinced.

Cilla continued. "A-and then the pon landed on the space that had 1899 written on it," she went on, looking at the group for any sign of recognition of what she was describing.

"Just because some elementary game board that probably hadn't been played since _Woodstock_ had us land on a series of numbers that happen to be the exact date of the newsies strike when read as a year and then also happened to have a card that read something about time travel, doesn't mean that we-" Rosie stopped herself. She turned to the others, horrified. "Holy fucking shit, what if she's right?"

Kylie chewed on her fingernail, the light purple polish beginning to chip away. "Okay, hold up. We don't know that we're actually in the movie."

"Look, Cilla's right," Brid said, laughing to herself at the craziness of it all.

Cilla threw her arms up into the air. "Can somebody write that down?"

Brid ignored her. "I know a Jack Kelly when I see one," she smirked and pointed to where Jack had been standing. "That, darlings, was he."

Rowan still looked terrified, and she placed her hands on her hips, crinkling her eyebrows. "We can't time travel. I'm volunteering at a summer camp tomorrow."

Rosie rolled her eyes.

"Rowan's got a point," Brid squeaked. "How _do_ we get back?"

The others were silent, which terrified them all. How were they to go back home?

"I say we explore this...this…" Cilla was looking for the right word.

"Time period," Rosie helped. "Call it what it is."

"...time period," Cilla continued. "I'm sure we'll be able to find some answers."

Kylie sighed. She didn't have a better idea. "Alright, but we all have to stay together. First thing we do is figure out for sure where and when we are. Someone look for a newspaper-" Then she smiled to herself. "Someone look for a newsie."

The others, momentarily forgetting their circumstances, smiled as well. "As crazy and insane as this is, it'd kind of like one of those _Newsies_ fanfics," Brid laughed. "You know, the ones where the girl goes back in time."

"And how do those time-travel fics end?" Rosie asked.

Brid shrugged. "I don't know. They're usually incomplete."

Kylie suddenly went wide-eyed. "You guys, if we use the knowledge we have of the _Newsies_ fanfics we've read, especially the time travel ones, we might have a chance at figuring out how to get home."

Cilla crinkled her nose. "But fanfics are stories written by fans. Who's to say the things we've read are real?"

Kylie smirked back at her. "We've time traveled to 1899, and not having been five minutes here have we seen Francis Sullivan. You're seriously going to question what's real and what's fiction now? We might as well be in a _Newsies_ fanfic."

Cilla held up her hands in defense.

Rosie chuckled slightly. "So in most time travel fics, the girl somehow immediately finds the newsies. How are we going to do that?"

Brid thought for minute. "They either dress up like boys or get rescued by them." She pursed her lips and looked conflicted. "Someone flip a coin."

"Should we dress up like boys?" Cilla asked.

Rosie took a breath and then nodded feverishly. "Yes, that seems the most reasonable in this situation. Oh and while we're at it, we should give ourselves all tragic back stories and learn how to fight with an unrealistic amount of skill. But when we get kidnapped, we'll suddenly need to be saved for some reason despite our clearly demonstrated survival skills we previously showed."

"Fuck you." Cilla pouted.

"Okay, okay, so dressing up like a dude is out," Brid reasoned. Then she looked down at her own outfit. "But look at what we _are_ wearing."

The girls quickly inspected their clothes. They were in their pajamas, what they had worn that evening. "People are going to think we're insane," Rowan moaned from behind them.

Cilla went pale. "How the hell am I going to explain my Hug Pugs Not Drugs t-shirt?" She glanced down at her own v-neck shirt and read it.

Rosie laughed and flicked her wrist nonchalantly. "They'll just assume you're from Brooklyn."

"That was a horrible reference to the movie," Brid shook her head.

"Focus," Kylie drew them back in. "Rescued. Should we try to get rescued by one of them? I mean, we've seen it work in the fanfics. Or maybe we could find the lodging house? Right. We find the lodging house and ask if we could stay there and they make us newsies and then-"

"No," Rowan interrupted. "First, we get out of these clothes. No one's going to take us seriously if we walk around in 21st century threads-"

"'Threads'?" Rosie repeated.

Brid shook her head. "You know, her mom once told me she dated Bob Dylan."

"Anyway, we need to dress to the times," Rowan said. "But we'll need help doing that. Maybe a store or something."

"We don't have money," Cilla reminded her.

"Okay, then we find…"

"Patrick?" A woman's voice called softly just outside the alley.

The girls froze. Kylie motioned for them to keep quiet as they pressed their backs against the side of the alley wall, hoping to stay hidden.

"Patrick, i-is that you, darling?" The woman repeated again. The girls could hear her walking closer to the alley. They held their breath. "Pa-"

A woman with light brown hair piled in a bun, dressed in a long, white skirt that had seen better days, stood before them. She looked to be in her late thirties. Her expression, once longing, suddenly grew confused and a bit taken aback. "I-I'm sorry. I thought you young ladies…" she trailed off. "You _are_ young ladies, yes?" She asked hesitantly.

The girls didn't respond for a few seconds, simply staring blankly at her. "Uh, um…" Kylie found her words rather ungracefully. "Y-yes? Yes. We are." She cringed at her sudden loss of confidence. She looked back at the others, all staring breathless at the woman. Kylie knew they were all thinking the same. This was a mother. _Patrick's mother_.

The girls could feel her glaring at their clothes or lack there of. "Listen, Miss, uh, Miss…" Kylie tried again, hoping the woman would give her name. At least that would be one mystery solved.

"Mrs. Brennan," The woman responded softly, her eyes glassy-looking as if she was remembering something tragic.

"Mrs. Brennan," Kylie repeated. "You see, we've run into some trouble, and we're in need of your help."

Mrs. Brennan, still looking quite puzzled, shifted her gaze to Brid. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," she muttered quietly to herself. She stepped cautiously closer to where Brid stood, her left hand outstretched. Brid flinched backward slightly as she was approached. Mrs. Brennan noticed Brid's recoil and paused, placing the outstretched hand over her mouth.

Brid gave her a funny look. Rosie chuckled slightly out of the awkwardness of the whole situation.

"I-I apologize, love," Mrs. Brennan sighed, shaking her head. "You just look like someone I know," she sounded distant, like a weary soldier. "And such a resemblance you have to…" She placed her hand on Brid's chin, and tilted the girl's face upwards gently. "His eyes…oh, and his nose..." She sniffled slightly.

Brid backed away quickly, wrapping her arms around her tank top. "Mrs. Brennan?"

Mrs. Brennan seemed to snap out of the trance she had been in and quickly wiped the stray tears from her green eyes frantically. "Y-yes, help. How can I help you girls?" She asked gently, still gazing curiously at Brid.

"We aren't very properly dressed, as you can see," Rowan spoke. "We were attacked in the night by thieves who stole our clothes. Could you perhaps…"

"Oh, yes," Mrs. Brennan looked at them with a level of understanding. "The streets can be such a cruel place for women such as ourselves. Oh you poor dears will catch your death out here,"

"Actually, it's about 83 degrees or so," Cilla thought out loud. Rosie nudged her, but Mrs. Brennan didn't seem to notice.

"Come with me, I'll see if I can find you ladies something of mine to wear," She smiled sweetly, and motioned for the girls to follow her. "Are you hungry at all? What am I saying, of course you are," she chuckled softly. "I'm sure I have some extra bread at home."

The girls followed her cautiously out of the alley, a bit nervous of what people would think when they saw them. Mrs. Brennan looked back at their apprehensive glances. "Chins up, dears. Sure, you're not the first scantily dressed young ladies this side of town has seen. And anyway, my flat is just at this corner," she said, pointing at a series of tall, crumbling buildings.

Brid leaned in toward Rosie. "Well it wasn't a newsie who rescued us."

Cilla frowned. "How do we know we can trust her?" She whispered to them.

"It's Patrick's mother. She's four foot nothing. She has the strength of a lima bean with cancer," Rosie confirmed. "I think we can relax."

They got to the corner, but just as they were about to cross, Cilla poked both Rosie and Brid. Kylie and Rowan were busy chatting with Mrs. Brennan. "Shit, shit, shit, don't look now," Cilla whispered to Brid and Rosie. They followed her gaze.

It was the previously sighted Jack Kelly himself, just across the street, laughing at something another boy had told him. That other boy turned around, flexing his muscles ever so slightly as he stretched his arms above his head, the hem of his shirt lifting to reveal part of a well-defined six-pack.

"Is that…" Brid began but was interrupted.

"_Mush_," Rosie squealed, trying not to flail her arms frantically. "I'm going to pee my pants."

Mrs. Brennan was leading them closer to where her flat was, insidently where the two newsboys were hanging around. The girls were surprised when Mrs. Brennan smiled and bid a good morning to Jack and Mush.

Kylie and Rowan who had just noticed the two, turned and looked excitedly at the others who returned their looks.

"Mornin', Mrs. Brennan," Jack called, flashing a confident smile.

Mrs. Brennan smiled weakly at them and drew her shawl closer to herself. "A-any sign of-"

"Haven't seen him today, Mrs. Brennan," Mush responded almost immediately. Then a flicker of amusement flashed through his eyes as he saw the five girls near her, standing awkwardly. "Mrs. Brennan, I didn't know you had any daughters."

Mrs. Brennan shook her head, laughing a bit. "If only I were blessed with lovely girls such as these," she waved a hand. "No, they're guests of mine. They've run into some trouble, you see?"

Jack, who looked as though he'd suddenly been fascinated in the papers he was holding, stole a glance up at the girls. He offered a friendly grin and winked. Brid almost melted.

"Well, I must get these poor dears inside," she said quickly, as if remembering the girls' clothes. "Do keep out of trouble," she waved to the two newsies.

Mush chuckled and waved back to the woman. It looked like Jack wasn't going to say anything, but right before the door of the building was shut behind them, he winked at Brid and said in a smooth voice, "I like trouble."

* * *

**/Hahaha, what the hell am I doing... So this is totally different from the original Tic Toc Game fanfic that I wrote but I promise I will connect it soon enough. My writing still feels a bit awkward because I haven't really updated this story in a while. Anyway, love it? Hate it? Burn it? I'm actually excited to update this but I need suggestions on where to go next. As per usual, reviews are always, always welcome, both good feedback and harsh criticism. If you have any ideas, just leave me a comment in the review and I will look it over. **

**Who's your favorite/least favorite character so far? What do you want to see for them in the next chapter? What's the Mary-Sue-O-Meter looking like right now? Let me know!**

**I love all you _Nerdsies_, and I can't wait to update the next installment. Until then, tic-toc. ;)**


	5. Chapter 4

Mrs. Brennan's second-floor flat was perfectly cramped, but it had a certain homey appearance altogether. Despite it being a clear and bright day, the inside of the apartment was shady to say the least. The long, patched curtains along the few windows kept the flat from direct sunlight. There were few family photos along the walls, and several generations of Mrs. Brennan's family stared down upon the five girls with shadowy eyes as they assembled inside. Everything smelt of old perfume and shoe polish.

A small figurine of the Virgin Mary stood on a window ledge, her arms outstretched. There was a medium-sized sitting room, about the size of Kylie's bedroom back home, with a single, beat-up sofa against one of the walls in front of a small window. A small, slightly cracked mirror hung from one of the walls and under that was a large dresser, perhaps a family heirloom.

Off to the side of the sitting room was a narrow, long wooden table that could seat about six if everyone squeezed. Next to the table was a tiny kitchen with barely enough space for three people to stand comfortably. The fire escape was just a few feet away, outside of the window decorated by tattered and partly faded blue curtains.

A bedroom was just off the sitting room, and the girls noticed a baby's crib next to the larger neatly made bed through the door that had been left ajar.

"Aww, do you have a baby?" Cilla cooed as she looked noticed the baby crib through the door, already half-knowing the answer. The girls knew about Patrick, but didn't really know who he was, aside from him being Mrs. Brennan's son.

The woman paused after closing the door behind her. She pursed her lips and looked into the mirror across from her. "I do," she answered with hesitation in her voice, which had deepened slightly.

The girls noticed she hadn't said 'I did,' meaning whatever children she had were still present. As a matter of fact, they'd thought it was Patrick's whereabouts she was inquiring about to Jack and Mush just moments before.

Cilla knew she was pushing it, but she just had to know. "Any boys?" She furthered, and then noticed how uncomfortable the room seemed to have gotten. "I-I have two brothers. One older, one younger." She figured that if she shared her personal information than Mrs. Brennan might feel comfortable enough to do the same.

Mrs. Brennan stepped delicately into the kitchen and pulled out a loaf of brown-looking bread from a shelf. "No sisters, hmm?" Mrs. Brennan asked Cilla, taking a slim kitchen knife from a tiny cupboard and slicing the bread, perhaps a little too abruptly.

Cilla shook her head. "Just me."

The others had awkwardly migrated over to the wooden table, wondering if they should sit down or not.

"I always wanted a daughter myself," Mrs. Brennan said softly. "I always imagined she would have my nut brown hair, and perhaps my mother's lovely blue eyes." She got out a white, porcelain plate and placed the bread slices neatly onto it before setting it on the table. "But I just wasn't meant to have a little girl."

"All boys?" Kylie asked, reluctantly taking a seat at the table and taking a piece of bread, the others following her lead.

Mrs. Brennan smiled at her and nodded. Then she forced a sad chuckle. "But I love them with all my heart, of course, God bless them."

"How many?" Rosie asked, her mouth full of dough. She really meant 'how old', wondering if any were possibly their age and well fit.

Mrs. Brennan leaned against the tiny stove and appeared to be thinking. "My eldest, Johnny, is a policeman. I suppose he'll be twenty years of age next March." She wiped her hands on her apron. "And my youngest, Michael, has just turned six. He's staying with my sister-in-law and her children for a few days. They live out in Philly. My Michael rode the train all by himself, the brave boy he is."

Cilla made an 'aww' sound, which lead to a chorus of cooing from the others as well.

"A-and of course, Patrick," Mrs. Brennan floated over to the antique dresser and clasped a black and white photograph that had faded with age. It was framed in a small, round frame of tarnished silver. "Thidwas taken a few years ago," she said, passing the picture around to the girls who listened breathlessly.

"Is he…" Rowan began but stopped herself.

Mrs. Brennan's eyes glazed over with water, and she immediately produced a white handkerchief and dabbed at the stray tears. "Everyday, I look at that door," she said, gesturing to the door of the flat. "Thinking that just maybe he'll come walking in, arms outstretched, crying 'Mummy, I'm home.'"

She paused and dabbed a few more tears away. "But he hasn't yet. It's been nearly two years, and still he hasn't. You know, this coming Thursday will be his seventeenth birthday. I know it's too much to hope for but…" her voice shook and fell silent.

Rowan, curious as ever, squirmed uncomfortably in her seat and managed to gently ask what had happened to Patrick. "Did he run away?" She asked softly.

"Run away?" Mrs. Brennan repeated, as if the words had stung her. "Voluntarily disappeared? Took off for something better? The coppers used all these fancy terms for it, but none of them could say my boy ran away. Probably because they didn't think I could handle the phrase. My son, John, joined the police, to find answers, but more importantly to find Patrick. It brings me nothing but sorrow to know that his attempts have been unsuccessful."

The girls were quiet for a few, long seconds.

"Ah, but enough of this sadness," Mrs. Brennan wiped her tears and set her handkerchief back in her apron pocket as she tried to laugh. "And enough about me. I must admit I get carried away," she said, her tone lightening considerably in an attempt to change the mood. "And anyway, I think I promised you girls a proper change in wardrobe, am I correct?" She smiled genuinely at the five girls.

Rosie offered a half-grin but didn't necessarily look forward to the idea of dressing in some lady's hand-me-down corset and bloomers. She by no means was one for dressing up even on the best of days, especially not when the outfit contained five layers of undergarments that somehow were needed to wear 'neath the main event dress.

The others were more willing to give it a try, nodding and giving Mrs. Brennan sympathetic and appreciative smiles.

"Right," Mrs. Brennan clasped her hands together. "I'll see what I can resurrect from the trunk in my bedroom. I'm sure I'll find something for each of you."

It seemed likely that any of Mrs. Brennan's clothes would fit them. The woman wasn't particularly tall, and she had a small frame that didn't seem to prove that she had had three children.

When she had disappeared into her bedroom, the five girls sat quietly. They were still a bit in shock of, well, everything.

"So this is all really happening," Brid murmured, quiet enough for the others to hear. "We're in 1899 Manhattan with everyone from the movie."

"So it seems," Kylie shrugged, grinning a little. "I'm just terrified I'm going to wake up, and this'll all have been a dream."

Rosie slapped her arm.

"Owwww!" Kylie gasped, rubbing her sore elbow. She smacked Rosie on her shoulder playfully. "What the hell?"

"And now you _know_ you're awake," Rosie confirmed.

"Alright," Mrs. Brennan's smile was evident in her voice as she re-entered the kitchen, clothes draped over her arms. "Give these a go."

She handed each girl an assortment of garments. The girls waited a moment for her to give them some privacy to change. Mrs. Brennan gave a slight laugh. "Ah come now, loves. We all know each other, and we're all girls."

Hesitantly, the five girls slipped off their pajamas and began to dress as Jane Austin's garage sale. To their surprise, the undergarments Mrs. Brennan had given them consisted of several sets of lingeries. It was nothing _Victoria's Secret_ worthy, but included a chemise, long underwear, bloomers, stockings, and a petticoat.

The next item they picked up in the pile drew slight grumbles from all five - corsets.

"I can't wear this," Cilla blurted out.

Mrs. Brennan seemed surprised. "But why not? It's the height of fashion, I'll have you know. Handstitched in Paris."

Grumbling something about 'death contraptions', Cilla relented. The girls struggled into their s-curved corsets, having to suck in at times.

"Well I suddenly feel fat," Rowan whispered to Kylie.

Mrs. Brennan came 'round to each of them and tightened their corsets respectively. Then she helped them hook the corset cover of the top of each one. "Now, your blouses," she smiled, handing them considerably clean, white linen blouses. "I've tailored them myself."

The last item was the gored skirt, which reached from the ankle to just below the bust. They were all earthy colors, nothing too pastel or bright.

"And we must do something about that hair," Mrs. Brennan sighed as she made a 'tsk' sound, looking at all five girls.

The girls felt their own hair self-consciously. It was slightly dirty, but that made it easier to work with. Mrs. Brennan grinned excitedly and sat down at the kitchen table. She patted the chair next to her. "One of you may go first. I'll see what I can do for your lovely tresses."

Cilla stepped forward nervously, her mousy brown hair piled on top of her head, held in place by a single hairpin. "Knock yourself out," she said, sitting down in front of the woman.

Mrs. Brennan frowned at this. "I don't understand-"

"She means she's happy to have you style her hair," Rosie jumped in.

With that, Mrs. Brennan began to unpin Cilla's hair, and it fell against her back like a wave. She brushed through the coarse, long hair with difficulty. "You have so many knots, dear," she remarked. "It might just be better if I cut it."

"What? No," Cilla pulled away suddenly. "No way you are cutting my hair."

"It's so tangled," Mrs. Brennan insisted. "And besides, it'll grow long again in no time. Don't you want healthy locks?"

"I think a nice trim would look pretty on you, Cilla," Kylie encouraged.

"Yeah, give it a try," Brid smirked.

Cilla remained silent as she appeared to be thinking it over. "How short?"

Mrs. Brennan laced a clump of tangles in Cilla's hair with her fingers and showed her about four inches. "This much," she said. "It'll still touch your shoulders."

"Come on, Cilla, go for it," Rowan cheered, stuffing a piece of bread in her mouth.

Cilla finally nodded. "Okay, but it better look good," she said, not unkindly.

Mrs. Brennan fetched a pair of fabric scissors and got to work. When she finished, she smiled at her masterpiece. "Oh it looks absolutely lovely, dear," she grinned. "Now I can dress it up."

Cilla leaned back and allowed her to finish. Mrs. Brennan's fingers were relaxing on her scalp, and she felt as though she might fall asleep. When she'd finished, Cilla checked her hair in the mirror above the dresser. She had some of her newly-shortened wavy hair swept up to the top of her head, with the rest of her hair flowing past her shoulders in curling tendrils.

"It's...something different," Cilla shrugged, but smiled to herself.

Rosie was next. Mrs. Brennan dismantled her messy topknot, and combed out her hair as well. She parted Rosie's hair down the middle, and then she pinned up her long dark hair just above the ears elaborately with a big bow. "You would look nice with shorter hair, too," Mrs. Brennan offered.

"Ah, no thanks," Rosie declined. "I don't have the face shape for that."

Brid's sleek hair was the thinnest, which proved the trickiest to Mrs. Brennan. She gave Brid heavy fringe and tousled and rolled her hair until it hung down in kiss-curled waves. She saddled it with a floppy blue bow and gave a reassuring nod to the girl.

Rowan's already wavy hair was easier to mess with. She gave her something that would resemble a ponytail or a sleek chignon, similar to Sarah Jacobs's. It was arranged in a knot-like coil around the back of her neck. The rest of her hair was kept flat to her head.

Kylie's slight curls, due to bedhead, were grabbed and put in a French braid, tying it with a smaller bow.

She gleamed at all five. "There," she said, standing behind them as they looked in the mirror at themselves. "Now you look like proper young ladies."

"We look like the friggin' Mary-Sue brigade," Brid whispered to Cilla who had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. "Let me know when our eyes start changing color with our moods, and by then I'll think we've made the full transformation."

The girls couldn't help but slightly admire their reflections. Kylie turned to the woman. "Thanks," she said, shyly smiling at her.

Mrs. Brennan beamed, then she looked as though she remembered something. "Shoes!" She gasped. "I'm not sure I have enough shoes for all of you."

"You've already given us so much though," Rowan insisted.

"Nonsense, I can't have you walking around without suitable ghillies on your feet," Mrs. Brennan interrupted. She quickly fiddled around with the dresser drawers and resurrected a few coins. She handed two quarters to each girl. "It's not much, but it'll buy each of you a decent pair, mind you. Go on down to Flora's Footwear. I'll show you where it is. They have plenty a boots down there, and tell Flora it was me who sent you."

The girls looked at her gratefully. She had so little of her own, but was willing to give so much.

After giving them directions to the shoe shop, she walked the girls to the door.

"How can we ever pay you back?" Rosie asked her.

Mrs. Brennan shook her head. "No need," she said. Then she glanced around her flat and seemed to have thought of something. "Actually, if it isn't too much trouble, will you girls bring back a newspaper for me? My husband likes to read them when he gets home from work and never has time to buy one."

The girls had to bite their tongues to keep from squeeing their immediate approval of the mission. Mrs. Brennan handed Brid some change for the newspaper. "Of course we will," Rowan smiled.

"We'll be back soon!" Kylie called over her shoulder.

_Finally_, the girls thought. A newsie-sighting was surely in store for the day.

* * *

**So there's chapter 4 :D Just wanted to say that I have no idea which newsie the girls should run into first, so if you have a newsie you'd like them to meet, let me know in a review or pm . . . I'd appreciate it!**

**Thanks to all of you who reviewed last chapter: ****_God'sgirlforever, coveredinbees14, Scarlet Drozd, fansie, shinigami nanoda, _as well as a few guests . . . Thanks for all your wonderful reviews, guys :)**

**Chapter 5 will hopefully be up in a day or two, so make sure you check for updates to read more :D Please go ahead and leave a review letting me know what you thought of the chapter!**

**Thanks so much for reading!**


	6. Chapter 5

"Do you even know where you're going?" Kylie asked, looking around uneasily at the unfamiliar buildings that loomed around them.

Rosie squinted her eyes from the blazing sun overhead and nodded. "I'm just trying to follow the directions Patrick's mother gave us. "She said to head right onto 44rth, then take another right once we get to Clayton's Fabrics, and then when we get to the end of that road, we take a left toward Bonnie's Market, and there it is."

"How did you remember all of that?" Rowan blurted, crinkling her nose.

Rosie paused and looked around suspiciously. The others stopped too and stared at her in confusion. Discreetly, she pulled out her iPhone from the front of her blouse. "I typed the directions in my phone," she whispered, as if anyone could hear.

Cilla scratched her elbow, wincing from the itchiness of her shirt. "But how did it even know where to go? Most of these places don't exist anymore."

"Yeah, and how are you getting signal?" Brid crossed her arms. "Shouldn't that be impossible?"

Rosie scrolled through something on her phone. "I'm not using Google Maps. I'm not a complete idiot, guys," she huffed. She showed them her phone. "I typed the directions into my Notes so I could remember them. That doesn't require wifi."

"Oh, that's smart, you're smart," Brid admitted.

Rowan rolled her eyes. "Okay, well can you please just put that away? What if someone sees it?"

"No one's going to care," Rosie waved her hand, tucking her phone back into her blouse. "Do you guys realize how handy these corsets are? I can literally hide stuff in here, and no one can tell," she smirked, gesturing toward her cleavage. "It's so tight, nothing can fall out. I wish we had these during exams week. I could've just shoved a bunch of math formulas down there, and glance down my shirt every problem or too. I mean, a teacher can't suspend me for staring down at my boobs every once and a while-"

"Alright, stop trying to make corsets work," Cilla interrupted, holding up her hand. "They don't work. There are no benefits. Only death."

Rowan cringed and looked down at her stocking-clad feet. "Can we please find this shoe store already? I don't even want to know what I've been stepping on for the past block."

Rosie looked around them. "Well, we passed Clayton's Fabrics, and I'm pretty sure that's Bonnie's Market," she said, pointing to a large produce shop set up outside. A few vendors stood behind their vegetable carts, trying to draw people over.

"Well then it should be right next to it," Rowan said excitedly.

They wove through the crowded streets, avoiding trolleys and carts, until they reached a small shop with the name painted elegantly in white script on the glass out front.

"Hopefully, they don't have a 'no shoes, no service' policy," Kylie joked, raising her skirt to look at her shoeless feet, illustrating her point. She laughed at her own cleverness and looked around at the others to laugh as well.

Cilla glared at her, shaking her head. "God don't do that," she uttered in disapproval.

They pushed inside and noticed how stuffy and warm the shop was, of course, due to the absence of air conditioning. It smelt of cinnamon and had an old, attic-y feel to it. Lining the walls were shelves of boots and shoes, of all sizes and colors, suitable for men and women.

"Are shoe sizes even measured the same here? I don't even know what to say if she asks me what size I am," Cilla panicked.

"Relax," Kylie exhaled calmly. "Just act like we know what we're doing."

There was an older woman with copper-colored hair piled in a bun, wearing an elegant red dress near the back of the shop. The girls assumed her to be Flora, the woman who owned the shop. She seemed to be assisting another woman with her boot selection.

"Shit, this could take forever," Brid muttered, looking up at all the shoes. "And Mrs. Brennan only gave us like twenty-five cents each. What does that even buy us? A shoe lace?"

Kylie clucked her tongue, staring at the selection. "Things are cheaper in 1899," she confirmed. "What a dollar is worth here is way more than in the 21st century."

"May I help you?" A chipper voice called sweetly from behind them. The girls turned and noticed a girl about their age, sixteen or seventeen, who wore a soft smile and a dress less expensive looking than Flora's.

"Uh, yeah," Kylie said, giving the girl an awkward smile back. "We came here looking for a new pair of shoes."

"Of course," she said, her voice slightly high-pitched. She eyed their clothes and seemed to be analyzing the type of shoes that would suit them. "What kind did you have in mind?"

"Boots?" Rosie said more as a question, glancing around at her friends for agreement. The others nodded and shrugged. Rosie looked back at the girl. "Yeah, boots would be fine. Not too pricey. And just a plain black or brown color."

The girls nodded as she scanned the shelves, a thoughtful look on her face. "I think I have something," she pulled a pair of black lace-up boots off the shelf and presented them. "They're not our latest style, but they're quite practical. She lifted her dress slightly to her ankles. "I'm wearing the same ones. You'll find they're rather comfortable."

"Well, if you insist," Rosie shrugged, silently grateful it wasn't anything with a heel.

The girl disappeared in the back for a moment and returned with an impressive armful of the same pair of boots. "One pair for each of you. Care to try them on?"

The others helped her with the pile of boots.

"Thank you," she blushed. "I was beginning to think I'd run into something."

As the five tried them on, the shop girl noticed they weren't wearing any other shoes. She thought this was odd but kept it to herself. After all, she felt it wasn't her place to question it.

"Ooh, they are comfy," Brid said, walking around in them.

"I think these are a winner," Kylie said, smiling kindly at the shop girl. "We'll take them. How much?"

The shop girl smiled at them and then looked behind her at her boss who was still helping the other woman. She gave them a quick sly smirk and shrugged. "They're yours. Take them," she said.

"What really?" Cilla asked, taken aback by this seemingly lady-like girl's change in personality. "Are you sure?"

The girl nodded. "I won't tell. And besides, you seemed like you needed a pair."

It dawned on Kylie that the girl had noticed they weren't previously wearing any shoes and probably assumed they were destitute or something. "Thanks," Kylie said, laughing slightly.

The shop girl shrugged and laughed as well.

"I'm Kylie," Kylie said, and then gestured to everyone else. "And that's Brid, Cilla, Rosie, and Rowan."

The girl gave an amused smile. "I've never heard names like that before," she said. "Very pretty, though. My name's Esmée," she fiddled with a strand of honey blonde hair. "It's nice to meet all of you."

"Hey we were going to have a late lunch, wanna come?" Kylie offered.

"We were?" Cilla whispered. "How are we going to pay for that?"

Kylie turned to her. "Well, we didn't buy the shoes, so I think we have some extra money."

"Really?" Esmée asked, delighted to have made new friends. "I would love to. I get off of work in a minute for my lunch break. I'll go and ask Aunt Flora if I could go early," she gushed, hurrying to the back of the store.

Brid crinkled her eyebrows. "Oh, her aunt owns the shop. That's kinda cool," she observed.

Esmée hurried back over to them and smiled brightly. "I can go, but I have to be back by 3:00 o'clock. We close at 3:30, and Aunt Flora locks the doors so I can't get back in."

Rowan looked confused. "Why would you need to get back in?"

Esmée pointed to a staircase at the back of the shop. "We live upstairs," she explained.

"That's so neat," Rowan grinned.

"Yes, Aunt Flora keeps the place very neat. She's quite tidy." Esmée responded, nodding in agreement.

Rowan realized the confusion in translation and went with it.

"So, what's a good place for lunch?" Cilla asked, her stomach growling.

Esmée thought for a second. "I don't have much of a preference. Where would you like to go?" She asked the group.

"Um," Rosie laughed awkwardly. "We're not really from around here. We're from out of town," she said, scratching her arm nervously. "So it looks like you get to call the shots for this one."

Esmée gave her funny look. She giggled slightly and shook her head at the group. "Where are you all from?" she chuckled.

"California."

"Massachusetts."

"Louisiana."

"Florida."

"Hawaii."

All five responses came at once. The girls looked at each other in alarm and then stared back awkwardly at the confused girl.

"We're just . . . a long way from home," Kylie said hastily.

Esmée looked slightly taken aback, but then burst into laughter. "Right," she said. "Well, if this is your first time here, you must try the oysters served at Tibby's Restaurant. They're absolutely divine. I hear they just started serving a carbonated beverage brought from North Carolina. I believe it's called Pepsi-Cola."

"Pepsi-Cola," Kylie laughed.

Esmée nodded enthusiastically. "I've never tasted it myself, but I hear it's something to experience."

"Well, can't argue with that," Cilla said. "Lead the way, Es."

To the girl's surprise, Tibby's Restaurant was only a block away. All five girls halted in front of the diner, simply staring in disbelief. They were really there. It looked just like it did in the movie.

Esmée looked at them expectantly. "I know, I wish they had seating outside as well. But the inside isn't so bad. Come on," she smiled, pushing open the door. A bell hanging near the door rang as they entered.

The girls inhaled and gazed around the restaurant, taking it all in. It was crowded, granted it was noon, and a lot of folks would be on their lunch breaks.

"A lot of businessmen come in here for their lunch," Esmée explained, gesturing to several tables of smartly-dressed men.

Brid leaned in toward Kylie. "Since when?" She whispered. "This is like where the newsies chill."

"Come on," Esmée pointed to an empty booth near the front window. "We can seat ourselves."

The girls anxiously followed her to the booth and slid in. A waiter with a friendly smile appeared with a notepad in hand. He looked to be in his early sixties, with greying hair and laughing blue eyes. "Welcome to Tibby's, ladies. My name's Bill, and I will be serving you this afternoon. Would you care to try our new Pepsi-Cola?"

Esmée looked at the others excitedly. "Do we dare?" She raised an eyebrow.

Kylie laughed. "Six Pepsi-Colas, please," she said to the waiter.

He nodded and scribbled something on his notepad. "I will be right back with those and get your food order then," he smiled and walked away to another table.

"So, have you always lived in New York?" Brid asked Esmée, trying to make conversation.

The girl nodded. "I was born and raised here in Manhattan," she said. "My parents came here from Dijon, France, years ago."

"Do you speak French?" Kylie asked.

She grinned. "Comme un livre," she replied, her French accent suddenly accentuating itself as she spoke the foreign words.

"Like a book," Kylie smirked. Her friends rolled their eyes. Kylie and Brid were the only ones who took French at school. They were only on level 2 and acted like they were practically fluent.

Esmée nodded and smiled. She tugged on her hair and looked at the table. "My mother died from influenza when I was five years old. And my father left me and my brother in the care of my Aunt Flora. He's never come back."

The girls were silent for a minute, not really knowing what to say.

"I'm sorry," Rowan squeaked.

Esmée shrugged softly and pursed her lips. "It's alright. It was a long time ago anyway."

Suddenly Bill appeared with their drinks. He placed the glasses of soda in front of each one of them. "Now, what can I get you to eat?" He said, preparing his notepad.

"We hear your oysters are good," Cilla said, remembering what Esmée had mentioned earlier.

"Best oysters this side of town," Bill smiled.

"Alright, how about a plate of that," she said.

"Coming right up," He chimed. Then he looked over at Esmée, as if noticing her for the first time. "Why Miss Ballatt, I didn't even see you there," he smiled. "How are you doing?"

"I'm very well, thank you," she answered. "And you?"

"We've been quite busy here lately," he beamed. "And how is your aunt? Is she well?"

Esmée grinned slightly. "Yes, she's just fine."

The old man smiled. "Good, good." Then he looked back at the others. "Well, I will be back with your oysters," he nodded and headed for the kitchen.

Brid looked back at Esmée. "What was that all about?" She laughed.

Esmée winked. "Old Bill and Aunt Flora were sweethearts back when they were about our age. But then he went off to war, and they grew apart, and now they barely see each other. Between us girls, Aunt Flora still has feelings for him. And apparently, he does for her as well."

The others chimed in with 'aww' sounds.

Suddenly, the bell above the door rang, and the restaurant noise grew louder. Out of curiosity, Rowan turned to look at what all the commotion was coming from. Her jaw dropped and her eyes widened.

"Hey fellas," Bill greeted as he stepped out of the kitchen.

Rowan nudged the others, too excited to speak. She pointed ecstatically to the door. The others turned.

"Holy shit," Kylie mouthed.

There they were. Well, not all of them. Three of them, to be exact, dressed in their usual attire, looking just like how the girls knew they would.

"Racetrack," Cilla breathed, trying not to hyperventilate as she saw the newsboy himself swagger into the restaurant, chatting happily and humorously with Bill.

"Jack," Brid squealed to the others.

"Bli-" Rowan was interrupted when Esmée spoke.

"Henri!" Esmée grinned and stood up, waving her hand.

Kid Blink, standing next to Jack and Racetrack in all of his eyepatch cuteness, turned and, seeing Esmée, smiled and waved back. "Esmée, c'mere," he grinned, waving her over.

"Excuse me for a moment," Esmée smirked at the girls, and slid out of the booth, hurrying over to Blink who waited with outstretched arms. He was much taller than she was, and he picked her up and swung her around, kissing her head.

The other girls in the booth watched, too stunned to speak. They tentatively peeked at Rowan who couldn't take her eyes off the two. She looked like she was watching a heart-wrenching film at its climax.

Blink slung his arm around the girl. Esmée gestured to where the others were sitting and Blink nodded at something she told him. He called to Racetrack and Jack and soon they were all heading over to their booth.

Both Brid and Cilla looked like they were about to faint, while Rowan looked broken.

"Maybe they're just friends," Kylie whispered to Rowan.

"Let's just hope Jack and Race are still single," Cilla squealed. "Sorry, that didn't help."

"Shit, you guys, think about it," Rosie muttered. "If Blink's got a girlfriend, who's to say the others don't as well. I mean, Jack might have Sarah by now."

The reality of this began to dawn on the other four, and by the time Esmée and the boys reached their table, the girls greeted them with utterly miserable expressions.

* * *

**Hey everyone! Well, here's chapter 5 . . . I hope the pacing in the story is okay :D**

**Thank you to _God'sgirlforever _for your review from chapter 4. You're fantastic! **

**Anyway, I hope this chapter is fun to read!**

**Also, I hope these girls aren't becoming Mary-Sues, or becoming unlikable/unrelatable, so if they are, just let me know what aspects seem that way so I can fix it . . . I'd appreciate it!**

**Chapter 6 will be up soon, so please leave a review of what you'd like to see next :D Your reviews really motivate me to update, and I always get excited to read your feedback!**

**Keep carrying the banner ;)**


	7. Chapter 6

"Ladies, I'd like you to meet a few criminals I know," Esmée smiled teasingly, exchanging playful looks with the three boys beside her once they reached the booth where the girls were waiting. Blink's right arm was wrapped snugly around her shoulders, much to the girls' slight dread.

Esmée gestured to each boy from right to left. "I'd like you to meet Racetrack, Jack, and Henri," she announced, her eyes brightening after each name.

Blink rolled his eyes and gave her a slight nudge on her side. "Ah come on, Es. How come you can't call me Blink like everyone else?" He grinned at the five expressionless girls at the table before him. "No one ever calls me Henri, except this one here."

Jack, who'd been staring at them curiously all the while, finally spoke. "I remember you," he said, referring to all five table members. He nudged Racetrack in the arm. "They'se were the ones Mush and I saw with ol' Mrs. Brennan."

A look of realization seemed to register on Racetrack's face. "You know Patrick's ma?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

The girls remained quiet, almost in too much shock to speak.

Racetrack looked expectantly at them, slightly confused by their silence. "You girls relatives of hers or something?" He tried again, hoping they spoke English.

Kylie was the one to snap out of her daze first. "Something like that," she said slowly. She brushed a loose strand of hair that had fallen from her braid behind her ear. Rather awkwardly, she stuck out her right arm and offered it to Racetrack, slightly jolting the boy at the sudden movement she gave. "I'm Kylie."

Racetrack looked surprised at the extended hand, but took it, a smile spreading across his face.

The other girls followed her example, shaking hands with all three boys and introducing themselves quietly, slowly gaining back their confidence.

Just then, Bill came strolling back with their orders. He beamed as he set the delicious smelling food in front of the girls, as well as their drinks.

The three boys stared hungrily at the food on the table. Esmée slid into her seat and gasped slightly at the glass before her. "I can't believe I'm going to try this," she gushed, swirling the soda with a thin spoon. "I've never had Pepsi-Cola before."

"Really?" Cilla asked, taking a sip of her own. "Then you're about ready, aren't ya."

Kylie looked regretfully up at the three boys just standing there. She wondered whether they'd eaten at all that day. She looked at the food they'd ordered. There was certainly enough for all of them. She turned to the boys. "Come on, pull up a few chairs. Don't make us eat all this by ourselves."

The boys looked surprised but their expressions instantly changed to gratitude. They scampered to pull three chairs away from random tables and sat around the booth with the girls, beginning to help themselves to the food.

Blink picked up Esmée's glass and tried to take a sip of her soda, but she pulled it away from him with incredibly quick force. "Get your own," she insisted.

Blink looked at her with a shocked expression. "You're a violent little thing." He grinned and licked his index finger, sticking it in her drink. Esmée made a disgusted face and pushed her glass over to him.

"Why can't you grow up?" She said in an annoyed tone. Blink nudged her playfully and took a drink from her soda.

The girls didn't know what to make of the whole situation. They'd dreamed and fantasized moments like this where they'd meet the newsies. They imagined what they'd say, how they'd act, and how easily they would win their hearts. And now that they were really there, facing the boys they'd dreamed about, they had nothing. _Nothing_.

Jack turned to look at the girls for a brief minute, flashing them a charming smile. "So what brings you to New York?" He asked, obviously trying to make conversation out of the awkward silence.

The girls thought for a minute, a million explanations racing through their minds. They weren't even entirely sure how they got there themselves, but there was no way they could tell them about the game board, or time traveling, or anything of that matter. Surely, everyone would think they were crazy. And that was not a good way to start off.

"We were travelling," Rosie said hesitantly.

Jack chuckled. "Well, yeah, but I mean . . . where from and why, ya know?" He added, wiping his mouth on a napkin.

The girls thought back to their conversation with Esmée. They'd told her five different places from where they'd come, and that couldn't happen again. So they looked around at each other until Cilla finally answered.

"We're from out of town," she said. The other girls mentally face-palmed, as if Cilla's explanation wasn't cryptic enough.

"Visiting Mrs. Brennan," Rowan added. "She's . . . distant family, a third cousin twice-removed on Brid's father's side."

Brid shot her a look. "No she's-" Rowan kicked her under the table, "a third cousin twice-removed on my mother's side," Brid quickly recovered.

"Oh," Jack nodded, clearly curious as to their forced dialogue. "How long you girls in town for?"

"A while," Rosie said, taking a drink of her soda.

"Staying with Mrs. B, then?" Blink asked.

Kylie nodded uncertainly, silently wishing the boys would ask them to stay at their place. But she knew that was out of the question. She wasn't even sure if girls were allowed. Kloppman seemed like a swell guy, but he wasn't an idiot. They would never pass as a boy by throwing their hair up in a hat and pulling on a pair of pants.

"She's a kind woman," Blink nodded. "Ain't got much, but she's sure got a big heart."

"That's kinda the thing," Cilla said, chewing on her lip. "We want to help bring in money while we're staying with her. Any jobs available that we could take on? Waiting tables, sewing, maybe something in journalism, I don't know. . ." she trailed off and looked at them expectantly.

The boys and Esmée thought for a moment. "I could get you a job at my aunt's shop," Esmée suggested brightly, a smile spreading across her face.

Rosie nodded to her, pursing her lips. "Yeah, yeah there's that . . . or, and I'm just going to snowball on top of that, selling newspapers. Right? I mean, how hard could it be? We earn a penny a paper, and say we sell two hundred papers and make two dollars each? That's ten dollars total."

"You could probably buy a yacht with that kind of money in 1899," Cilla mumbled to Kylie.

Esmée looked a bit disappointed in their choice of job. "But . . . it's just, being a newsie is hardly suitable for . . . well you know. There's not as many girl newsies as boys, and it might be awful lonesome."

"Oh, we'd all sell together," Cilla added. "Come on, it could be doable."

The boys seemed a bit more relaxed about it than Esmée who still seemed reluctant.

Racetrack grinned. "You have any experience?"

Kylie had worked on the school's newspaper back home, but she guessed it probably wasn't the same thing. "No," she said finally. "But luckily we can learn from the best," she said and smiled at the three boys. If the show of sheer determination wouldn't get the boys' on board with the idea, flattering them would.

The boys seemed to sit up a bit straighter at this. Jack shrugged and looked as if he'd reached a tough decision. "Alright, if you want to. We can show you the ropes, and you'll get the hang of it soon enough."

"Okay then," Rosie nodded.

Blink drank the last gulp of what was Esmée's soda. "That was good," he grinned.

Esmée narrowed her eyes at him. "_Ferme la bouche_," she spat at him.

Blink looked amused and slung his arm around her. "_L'arrêter, tu m'aimes."_

Rowan, not fully understanding what they had said, gave the couple a weak smile. "You two are adorable," she forced herself to say. "How long have you been . . . you know, seeing each other."

Blink and Esmée stared at her a minute. Then the other two newsies began snickering. Blink and Esmée began to burst into laughter as well.

"Seeing each other?" Blink laughed, taking his arm off of Esmée who smiled shyly at the girls. "That's a new one."

"I'm sorry, did I get that wrong?" Rowan asked, feeling her cheeks flush with embarrassment at a possible error.

"It's okay," Jack laughed. "Blink and Esmée . . . " he chuckled and shook his head. "Let's just say that would not be a match most would approve of."

"I don't get it," Cilla added.

Blink smirked at her. "This little elf," he said, nudging Esmée, "is my sister."

The girls eyes widened in realization. "Oh," they all seemed to say at once. That would explain the sibling-like behavior, not to mention both of them speaking French.

Rowan felt her chest clench in excitement. What a bullet dodged. Blink was still on the market, but who's to say any of the other newsies weren't?

Racetrack and Jack had stopped their chuckling and looked with amusement at the girls. "You can meet us at the distribution center along Newspaper Row. That's where we get the papes," Jack explained, standing up from the table with the other boys.

"What time?" Kylie asked.

"Bell rings at 7:00 a.m.," Race said, putting his cap back on.

The girls knew that would be a problem. "No problem," Cilla smiled through her grimace.

Esmée hugged her brother goodbye, and the three boys waved a 'see you later' to the girls before heading out the door.

The food was completely gone, and the sodas were near empty. "Could we get the check?" Brid asked, looking around for Bill.

"I'll get it," Esmée assured, waving Bill over.

"No," Kylie looked insistently at her. "We're not going to let you pay for our meal. We've got money."

Bill walked over with their . . . bill. Esmée added up the total and handed Bill a few coins. "It's no trouble really," she said to the girls. She then turned to Bill. "Thank you."

Bill nodded and thanked the girls, telling them to come again before walking away.

"I guess we should be getting back to Mrs. B's," Cilla said, adopting the nickname for the woman. "I don't want her to worry about where we've gone. I'm pretty sure we've exceeded our curfew by a lot."

Esmée smiled knowingly. "Yes, of course," she said and stood up from the table, as did the others. She led them outside and looked across the street to where her aunt's shoe store was. "I suppose I'll see you later, then?" She asked, hopefully. It was clear she didn't have many friends and seemed to be quite thrilled to have met the girls.

"Definitely," Rosie nodded, grinning at her. "We can all meet for lunch tomorrow again. We'll tell you how selling papers works out." She winked.

Esmée laughed and nodded in agreement. The girls hugged her and waved goodbye as she headed across the street.

"Any idea how to get back to Mrs. Brennan's?" Rowan asked the group, still smiling as she waved goodbye to Esmée.

Rosie sighed. "I'll get out my phone."

* * *

**That felt like the longest chapter I've written, but it was mainly because it was the slowest chapter I've written. I'm thinking of introducing maybe Mush or Spot (you guys can pick) in the next chapter, just so the girls can officially meet them, so just let me know in a review :D**

**Thanks to all the reviews! (I would list the people, but My computer's about to die.) I love reading all your feedback and appreciate the time you take in doing it :) I hope everyone enjoyed reading this chapter!**

**I'm hoping to update sometime this week. Please review and let me know how the story is so far. I really love all your suggestions. **

**Thanks for reading!**

**keep carryin' the banner!**


	8. Chapter 7

Mrs. Brennan's hospitality, as it turned out, was not short-lived. She gladly welcomed back the somewhat-giddy young ladies after they returned from their run-in with a few newsies.

She gave each of them a long cotton nightgown with delicately trimmed necklines, something the girls weren't used to sleeping in as opposed to their more comfortable T-shirt and shorts they'd traveled in.

"Would it be alright with you ladies if I disposed of these?" Mrs. Brennan had asked that evening, gesturing to the pile of their discarded 21st century pajamas.

"Actually, we're going to hold on to those, please," Rowan piped up. She was brushing her hair out of it's slight waves, gasping loudly every so often as the brush battled with a tangle in her blond locks. "It's a reminder of home."

The girls murmured agreements, and Mrs. Brennan nodded rather reluctantly and began to fold their old clothes into a neater pile. She then placed the stacked clothes in a drawer of the dresser, making a show of it so that girls would know where to find them if they so needed.

"May I ask, where is your home?" Mrs. Brennan inquired, dressed in her own nightgown and settling herself down on the sofa. She lit a candle in a lamp and placed it next to dresser so it lit up the darkening room with a warm glow.

"Oh, it's far away," Brid answered quickly, trying to stick to the truth as much as possible. It was easier that way.

Mrs. Brennan nodded slowly, as if she had already gathered this information. "Yes, I see that. You haven't got the Manhattan accent of the street, nor any other accent of New York either. And I'd bet you're not immigrants either?"

"No," Kylie said, undoing her hair from the braid. She shook it and worked through the crimps with her fingers before shuffling it to its left side part.

"Then your parents then," Mrs. Brennan continued. "They were immigrants?"

"Our parents are-" Kylie paused. Their parents are . . . what? It was 1899. Their parents wouldn't be around for at least another 65 years. "Dead. Our parents are dead."

Her friends turned and stared at her surprisingly.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Mrs. Brennan admitted, a pitiful expression appearing on her face. "I didn't mean to push the question. I was just curious as to what brought you to the city?"

"Family," Brid interrupted. "Rowan has an estranged aunt who lives in New York. I think she does vaudeville."

Rowan glared at her. Brid smirked back and mouthed, _payback_.

Cilla smirked as well, ready to add to the story. "Medda Larkson? You may have heard of her. Anyway, she's Rowan's mother's sister."

"I'm not familiar with that name," Mrs. Brennan confessed, crinkling her eyebrows. "Do you know where she might live?" She asked Rowan.

"I know where she works," she muttered.

"Would you ladies prefer to stay with her, then?" Mrs. Brennan mused. "I don't mind your company, but if your aunt is a famous singer, she might be able to look after you all better than I can. As you can see, I haven't much to offer."

Rowan shook her head quickly. "No, I think we'd like to stay here. You know, if that's okay with you," she objected, giving the woman a reassuring smile. "Right, guys?"

The girls shrugged and mumbled agreements, indifferent to either choice. Now if the Manhattan Newsboy's Lodging House on Duane Street had been a sleeping arrangement option, the girls would already have their bags packed.

"Well, we need to get some sleep for tomorrow morning," Rosie said, checking an imaginary watch on her wrist.

"Are you sure selling newspapers is a good idea?" Mrs. Brennan protested, a worried look on her face. "Wouldn't you girls prefer something a bit less grueling?"

"Us?" Rosie looked at her, waving her hand in nonchalance. "Don't worry about us. If we could climb the rope in gym class last year, we can handle a little paper selling."

"I beg your pardon?" Mrs. Brennan puzzled in a soft voice. "A climbing rope in a gymnasium?"

"What?" Cilla asked, pretending to be just as confused. "Rosie, your metaphors need work," she forced a chuckle. She turned to Mrs. Brennan. "She says weird things, but she means well. Anyway, is there a certain place you wanted us to sleep?"

Mrs. Brennan smiled and gestured to her bedroom. "Take my bed. I'll sleep on the sofa."

"No, no, no, no," Kylie reasoned. "We're not taking your bed away from you. We'll sleep out here."

"Are you certain?" Mrs. Brennan hesitated. "At least let me give you blankets and pillows."

She disappeared into her bedroom and returned with two large quilts. Then she brought in five small pillows and arranged them on the floor. "I'm sorry it's so inconvenient. But we'll work something out."

"This will be fine, thank you," Rowan smiled at her.

"Well, try and get a good night's rest. I'll see you all in the morning," she reassured, blowing out the candle on the dresser. "One of you could probably sleep on the sofa. The lavatory is just downstairs, second door in the hallway. You have to flush it twice. There's water from the tap in the kitchen. And if you get hungry, there's some bread left over in the cupboards. Feel free to talk, but be sure you're quiet or I'll hear it from Mrs. Jacobs next door. She's trying to put her young one to bed."

The girls nodded and called their goodnights after Mrs. Brennan as she stepped into her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

"So . . ." Brid sighed, smirking slightly. "Mrs. Jacobs is right next door."

"You don't think it's David's mom, or maybe it is," Kylie shrugged. "I guess we'll find out later. Do you think he's a newsie yet? I mean, has the strike already happened?"

Cilla nodded. "Good question. We'll have to figure that out tomorrow." Then she went wide-eyed and gasped. "What do we wear tomorrow?"

"What are you talking about?" Rosie smiled, giving her a funny look. "We'll wear what we wore today."

"Aww, but I wanted to wear newsie stuff," Cilla smirked. "You know, like suspenders and pants and caps and stuff like that."

"What do you think this is? A time-travel fanfic?" Rosie snapped, giggling to herself. "We sell in skirts or we don't sell at all."

"Wait, I thought we were going by the fanfics," Rowan put in and then sneezed. "Argh, the dust in here though."

Brid snickered. "I'm kind of with Cilla on this one," she squeaked. "I want newsboy attire."

"Okay, well have fun looking like a complete idiot," Rosie said.

"I thought you'd be the one pushing for a newsie outfit," Kylie spoke, giving Rosie a confused look.

Rosie shrugged. "You guys don't honestly think it would look weird to the people in this time period? They're not on board with the whole 'girls can pants' thing."

"Whatever, I'm stealing Jack's clothes," Brid flicked her wrist uncaringly.

"Not sure how cool he'd be with that," Kylie laughed.

The girls burst into laughter, only to hear an angry pound on the wall next to them from the next flat over.

"Okay, let's go to sleep before Mrs. Jacobs kills us all," Rowan chuckled.

"See you in the morning, girlies. Bright and early and sell the papes," Rosie whispered to all of them.

Kylie smirked. "You mean _carryin' the banner_."

* * *

**And theres chapter 7! :D I really hope it wasn't too bad. I know it's not as great as the other chapters, but I needed to establish some things in here. I'm in kind of a hurry this evening because I'm going out tonight so sorry if the chapter seems rushed. Hopefully, it holds up alright.**

**Thanks for all the reviews on the last chapter! Special thanks to _God'sgirlforever, coveredinbees14, _and _Giggles789 _for the wonderful feedback on chapter 6! You guys are awesome.**

**Next week's going to be really crazy due to school starting again. I hate that summer's ending soon, but as you know from my bio if you've read it, fall is my favorite season! I tend to be more motivated to update then :) I'll probably update sometime next Thursday or next Sunday. Depends on how things are going.**

**Also, so sorry for not adding more newsies in this chapter. I promise they'll meet them in the next chapter. By popular demand, I'm going to be introducing Mush next! **

**Anyway, feel free to leave a review or pm me letting me know what you think so far. I can't wait to update! :D I enjoy all your feedback and reviews! **

**And if you'd like your own newsies fanfic referenced in the story, let me know! The girls will be using their knowledge of other fanfics, and if you would like to see them mention characters, events, or locations from your newsies fanfics, or even have them credit your pen name as an author they've read fanfics from, let me know in a review or pm! It would be tons of fun to work in :)**

**Thanks for reading and keep carryin' the banner!**


	9. Chapter 8

A sudden chorus of shrill chimes cut the silence of the early morning atmosphere.

Kylie awoke with a start and moved her head around, feverishly trying to locate the source of the disturbance. At first, she felt panicked. The unfamiliar room she was in frightened her, but quite quickly the events from the day prior came flooding back to her. She felt a smile twitch her lips.

The even, melodic chimes kept ringing in a familiar pattern that Kylie had heard before somewhere else. She craned her neck to where it was coming from and noticed Rosie's cell phone morning alarm had gone off. Groggily, she forced herself to sit up and quickly stumble over both Rosie's and Rowan's sleeping bodies on the ground next to her. Kylie reached the phone and swiped the password, quickly shutting off the alarm as well as turning down the volume.

She hoped Mrs. Brennan, who was asleep in her room, hadn't heard the noise. While she was up, she ran a hand over her face, dizzily feeling the pain in her head and neck from sleeping on a thin pillow on the floor. The nightgown she was given to wear was itchy and made her sweat from the humid temperatures inside the tenement room due to the early summer heat.

"What time is it?" Brid asked tiredly, wiping the sleep from her eyes and stretched her arms above her.

Kylie checked Rosie's phone. "Like 6:00," she mumbled, tossing the phone back on the sofa and slouching back down to her cozy spot on the floor. She wrapped herself back in the blankets. "My eyes sting. I forgot to take out my contacts last night." Her face then registered a look of realization. "Oh _great_. How am I supposed to get contact solution? Or even containers to put my contacts in for the night? I don't have my glasses with me."

Brid shrugged. "Can't you make your own?"

Kylie frowned. "I mean, maybe I can use little bottles to hold them in, but I have no idea how to make contact solution."

"Google it."

"There's no wifi."

"Use data, then."

Kylie sighed. "Maybe later. We should probably wake up everyone else. We've already wasted like six minutes." She rolled over on her side and looked to her left to where Cilla was sleeping. She poked her nose playfully. "Come on, get up, it's paper-selling time," she sang.

Cilla flexed her arms and moved to stretch her legs out. She yawned and forced herself into a sitting position. Her dark hair fell into her face. "I had the most intense dreams last night. And I feel so tired now. My dreams were physically exhausting."

She stood up and stumbled over to Rosie's phone and checked the time. "Whoa, it's already 6:13. We need to get moving."

Brid got up as well and began to stretch her limbs. Kylie rolled herself toward Rosie and shook her, encouraging her to wake up. Rosie moaned and tried to pull the blankets over her head as she curled up in a ball. "It's a Saturday," Rosie muttered under the blankets.

"Yeah, and we're also in 1899 about to sell papers if you forgot," Brid added from above her.

Rosie peeked out of the blankets. "Well shit, I forgot about that," she said quietly. She sat up and reached for her phone. "What we wearing?"

"Probably the same thing we wore yesterday," Kylie said tiredly. "I'm going to change behind the couch, just a heads up," She announced, grabbing the clothes Mrs. Brennan had given her and ducking behind the sofa.

"Someone wake up Rowan," Cilla said.

"Yeah, good luck with that," Rosie laughed. "She doesn't get up early ever. She's never on time to first hour. I'm surprised she hasn't gotten a detention by now."

"Everytime we try to coordinate going out to breakfast in the morning before school, she never shows," Kylie added from behind the couch. "Anything before 8 a.m. is too early for her."

Brid sighed. "And guess which one of us also takes the longest time to get ready in the morning?" She asked, gesturing to Rowan's sleeping body, snuggled in the blankets in deep sleep.

Kylie emerged from the behind the sofa, fully dressed, as Cilla took her place to change as well. Kylie sat down, lacing up her boots. "Ro, wake up," she said soothingly to the sleeping beauty below her. "Time to carry the banner."

Rowan barely moved.

"I got her," Rosie said, flipping through something on her phone. She held it next to Rowan's ear and blasted the most obnoxious alarm on full volume.

Rowan sat up, her eyes wide and a terrified look on her face. "What the heck . . . " she breathed, placing a hand to her heart. The others chuckled and continued to get dressed. "Now I'm deaf in my left ear. Great. Thanks, Rose," she joked.

"I'm so tired," Kylie whined, trying to re-braid her tangled hair. "I need a shower."

"Well, you could use the sink in the bathroom down the hall or wherever it is," Rosie said.

Brid's eyes were wide. "Guys, we don't have any makeup. I will literally scare everyone with my face."

Cilla gave her a funny look. "You're face is not scary. You look fine."

"Easy for you," Brid complained. "You're naturally pretty. You're face is perfect, and you don't need makeup. I do."

"Oh, you wanna see scary?" Rosie asked, trying to fix her slightly-curly hair in the mirror. "My hair hasn't been washed in two days. And I look like crap."

Rowan pulled on her boots. "I forgot how to lace these."

Cilla bent down to help her. "My body feels so stiff," she said quietly.

"Do some squats," Rosie suggested.

"No, it's like my arms and shoulders area," she said, moving her respective limbs to circulate blood. "I miss my morning yoga."

"Wait, you did that?" Kylie raised an eyebrow. "I could never be that dedicated."

"I miss poptarts," Rowan groaned as her stomach rumbled.

Brid nodded. "Same. I miss smoothies."

"Well, I miss my VSX sports bra and leggings," Rosie admitted, shimmying into her skirt. "Seriously, I can't get these stockings or whatever they're called past my calves."

"I feel ya," Kylie agreed.

"Are we all ready?" Cilla asked, finally lacing her own boots after doing everyone else's.

"I am," Cilla and Kylie said together.

"I'm hungry," Rowan added. "Is there like an IHOP or somewhere we can get a real breakfast? You know, like waffles and pancakes?"

Rosie laughed. "I'm pretty sure breakfast is not in the newsies' diets."

"No, 'cause remember they got food from the nuns in the movie," Rowan protested.

"Alright, fine, we can probably do that. But we'll have to hurry 'cause it's already 6:30 right now," Kylie reminded them, walking over to the door.

"Should we tell Mrs. Brennan we're leaving?" Brid asked.

Cilla shrugged and looked over at the closed bedroom door. "Nah, I wouldn't wory about it. She's probably still sleeping, and we told her what we were doing already."

The girls quietly slipped out the tenement door and hurried down the stairs and out into the early morning. It was already bright out, and the girls immediately felt dizzy, especially Rowan, Kylie, and Cilla who wore contacts and still had theirs in.

"Which way is it?" Brid asked, squinting in the sunlight.

The streets were busy, even at the early hour. Shopkeepers were switching the open signs on their doors, vendors were setting up their stands, and businessmen were rushing on their way to work.

"We could ask someone," Cilla suggested.

"Wait, look," Kylie pointed to two large chalkboards resembling billboards towering just a few buildings away. A few men stood atop them, writing in white chalk the headlines of the day. "This is where they sang part of "Carrying the Banner." That means the Distribution Center gates should be close by to it."

"Nice observation there, Ky," Rosie nodded. "Can't believe we didn't see that earlier."

The girls walked briskly toward the Distribution Center gates, waking themselves up as they went.

"I could use some caffine," Rowan admitted.

"Well, make enough money this morning, and you can buy a cup of coffee afterwards," Brid suggested. "It can be your motivation."

"You don't need to be motivated to get coffee," Rowan scoffed. "Coffee gets you motivated to do other things."

"Hey, we're here," Cilla said as the girls faced the tall, iron gate. It was locked. Rosie discreetly checked the time on her phone.

"Okay, we've got about fifteen minutes until the gates open," she announced. "So we can just chill here. Newsies should be rolling in any minute now."

As if on cue, a crowd of rough, ragged-looking boys of various ages emerged from another street, headed for the gates. The girls recogized them as the boys from the Manhattan Newsboy's Lodging House.

The girls could barely contain their squeals.

"Okay, be cool," Kylie nudged her friends. "Just act like one of the guys."

"But wouldn't it be more to the point if we acted slightly more proper than usual?" Rowan asked. "If we want to blend in, we should act like girls would in this time."

Brid glared at her. "Have the fanfics taught you anything?"

"Just be yourselves," Cilla shrugged. "But keep in mind the social norms of this time period. Rowan's right."

Rosie sighed. "I'm gonna screw this up."

As the newsies drew closer, they seemed to the notice the group of five girls huddled near the gates and began to whisper and nudge one another.

The girls felt incredibly nervous and slightly self-conscious about their appearances.

"Here goes nothing," Rowan smiled.

"Here goes everything," Brid sighed.

* * *

**Finally got to update this :D Really hope you enjoyed it!**

**I'd like to take the time to say thank you for all the story followers and favorites over the past few chapters! Special thanks to the awesome reviews from: _God'sgirlforever _****and _Giggles789_****. You're wonderful :) Thanks to everyone else who favorited and followed as well!**

**Anywho, hopefully I will update a lot sooner the next time. I'm thinking tomorrow. Meanwhile, let me know what you think so far, and be ready to read the next chapter :D Feel free to leave a review - I appreciate all criticism!**

**Love you all and keep carrying the banner!**


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